'REALLY!' Gudrun flushed dark--'But anything really worth while? Have
you REALLY?'
'A thousand a year, and an awfully nice man. I liked him awfully,' said
Ursula.
'Really! But weren't you fearfully tempted?'
'In the abstract but not in the concrete,' said Ursula. 'When it comes
to the point, one isn't even tempted--oh, if I were tempted, I'd marry
like a shot. I'm only tempted NOT to.' The faces of both sisters
suddenly lit up with amusement.
'Isn't it an amazing thing,' cried Gudrun, 'how strong the temptation
is, not to!' They both laughed, looking at each other. In their hearts
they were frightened.
There was a long pause, whilst Ursula stitched and Gudrun went on with
her sketch. The sisters were women, Ursula twenty-six, and Gudrun
twenty-five. But both had the remote, virgin look of modern girls,
sisters of Artemis rather than of Hebe. Gudrun was very beautiful,
passive, soft-skinned, soft-limbed. She wore a dress of dark-blue silky
stuff, with ruches of blue and green linen lace in the neck and
sleeves; and she had emerald-green stockings. Her look of confidence
and diffidence contrasted with Ursula's sensitive expectancy. The
provincial people, intimidated by Gudrun's perfect sang-froid and
exclusive bareness of manner, said of her: 'She is a smart woman.' She
had just come back from London, where she had spent several years,
working at an art-school, as a student, and living a studio life.
'I was hoping now for a man to come along,' Gudrun said, suddenly
catching her underlip between her teeth, and making a strange grimace,
half sly smiling, half anguish. Ursula was afraid.
'So you have come home, expecting him here?' she laughed.
'Oh my dear,' cried Gudrun, strident, 'I wouldn't go out of my way to
look for him. But if there did happen to come along a highly attractive
individual of sufficient means--well--' she tailed off ironically. Then
she looked searchingly at Ursula, as if to probe her. 'Don't you find
yourself getting bored?' she asked of her sister. 'Don't you find, that
things fail to materialise? NOTHING MATERIALISES! Everything withers in
the bud.'
'What withers in the bud?' asked Ursula.
'Oh, everything--oneself--things in general.' There was a pause, whilst
each sister vaguely considered her fate.
'It does frighten one,' said Ursula, and again there was a pause. 'But
do you hope to get anywhere by just marrying?'
'It seems to be the inevitable next step,' said Gudrun. Ursula pondered
this, with a little bitterness. She was a class mistress herself, in
Willey Green Grammar School, as she had been for some years.
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